Tease
by writtendaydreams
Summary: "It's usually around three AM when he wakes breathing heavily, his lower-area constricted by his pajama bottoms, and head swimming with images of Annabeth. He curses, burying his face into his pillow, and bets Aphrodite's somewhere up there on Olympus laughing her ass off."


just an anon request about percy being seually frustrated. just saying to y'all this is NSFW for iffy situations. also, this would probably be a prequel to hickey.

xx

Percy has to admit, his new favorite thing to do with Annabeth now that they're together is run his hands up her legs.

He loves it when his parents are out, and Annabeth starts off by sitting casually next to him watching the boring movie put on for them, until she somehow ends up pressed up against him with her uniform polo unbuttoned all the way down and her skirt totally flipped up all the while kissing him senseless. The movie always long forgotten.

But even after all of that Percy has no clue why watching Annabeth sit up, and head for the door, waiting for him to drive her back to her dorm frustrates him so much.

Actually, he does know why.

Percy seriously knows why.

It keeps him up at night, tossing and turning under his sheets, trying to mentally redress her so he can fall asleep properly. Even when he does manage to sleep, his mind is drowned in images of Annabeth hovering above him or under him, running her fingers through his hair, sighing, moaning when she . . . You get the picture.

It's usually around three AM when he awakes breathing heavily, his lower-area constricted by his pajama bottoms and full of want for Annabeth. He curses, burying his face into his pillow, and bets Aphrodite's up there on Olympus laughing her ass off.

At least it's not like when he was thirteen and fourteen, Percy considers, when he used to wake and find his groin area sticky wet.

That night he makes a vow to mention it to Annabeth without making a big deal out of it. Just be casual, he nods at his own thoughts, _Bring it up in a conversation or something._

xx.

The next Friday, Annabeth's hopping into the passenger seat with her sneakers kicked up on the dashboard. Navy blue tights cover her legs that she touches while she leans forward and stretches her body. Her pleated skirt is slightly hiked up where he can see where the outline-

"Percy!"

"What? Yeah? I'm here!"

"I . . ." she pauses for a moment, eyes squinting, obviously confused, "know that? Um, I was going to say we should get hamburgers from that new place down the street with your parents later." Annabeth relaxes back into her seat, before leaning forward to untie her shoes. She slips them off, one, two, and starts to roll down her tights from the waistband.

"What are you . . . What are you doing?"

"Percy, watch out!" He slams the break at the red light, almost grazing a passerby who slams on the hood of Paul's prius. "Gods!"

"Are you okay?" Annabeth touches the back of her hand to his forehead. "You've been really weird lately. You're not coming down with something, are you? Did something happen at Goode?"

Percy grips the steering wheel hard enough to most likely break the top part of it off. After the pegasus footprints on the hood thing from last August, he promised Paul he'd keep the "car-ruining" to a minimum.

"Yep," he nods, clenching his teeth. "I mean, I'm okay. I don't think I'm coming down with anything. Jeez, Annabeth. You sound like my mom." He slumps back in his seat, taking a deep breath. He doesn't dare turn to look at her. "Why-Why are you taking off your tight things?"

She bunches them up in a ball, and stuffs them in her backpack.

"They're _itchy_, Seaweed Brain, and irritating. _I hate them_, but jeans aren't allowed. Only slacks, which I have none of yet. And, plus, it's freezing. I'm still waiting on Chiron to send me mortal money . . ." She continues on about how her school has no clue about how difficult it is, and she leads onto her classes and teachers. "But, I am closer to you, so I guess it's somewhat worth it."

Percy's still not looking at Annabeth, but he can practically feel her tongue sticking out at him.

When they wipe their shoes off on the welcome mat, and Percy opens the door for her, the first thing she says is, "Sweats? Can I borrow some?"

"Yeah, they're upstairs in my top dresser drawer."

"Be right back!" she calls, bounding her way up the carpeted stairs.

He falls into the sofa opposite the TV, running his hands through his hair, and sighs. How is he going to ask her about it again? He read up somewhere that it was important to talk about it, but did Annabeth even want to do anything more with him? It didn't matter to him, he'd lie low for awhile if she didn't want to. No big deal. Doesn't she have to want to? another part of his brain spoke. She's a girl, and she's, well, _she's Annabeth_. She initiates basically everything that she wants, and when she's ready, she will.

But, maybe, it's his turn to take, he ponders. He reclines the chair, and takes off his coat right as she makes her way down the stairs to the living room, but she's not wearing sweats, no.

Annabeth's wearing her uniform blouse, and . . . _just_ her underwear.

She throws him one of those _come-on-Seaweed-Brain_ smiles. He freezes, and watches her climb over him. Her hands find his body trailing down lower and lower until she reaches the button on the waistband of his jeans. "What are you-What are you doing?"

Annabeth looks up, shooting him a raised eyebrow. "You. In a few minutes. If you stop asking questions."

Percy's jaw drops, and if you ask him his name, there's no way in Hades he'd be able to tell you.

After she finishes with his zipper, Annabeth slowly unbuttons the buttons on her shirt, one by one, taking her own slow sweet time. Her curly hair tumbles down loosely over her shoulders, and oh gods, does it do something for him.

His eyes close for a moment. "I've dreamed about this?"

"What?" she questions, and he thinks she's going to stop, but she only begins to move her hips against his. Percy notices her pupils are blown wide when his shaking hands take hold of the rest of her buttons, while her lips press roughly against his own.

"Never mind . . . just keep kissing me, oh gods."

And that's an afternoon well wasted.


End file.
